Chapter 82
CHAPTER 82
JULIET
D arkspire castle is the winter home of the royal court. The rest of the year is spent in the capital of Alyria. With thick obsidian stone walls and high towers that seem to stretch to the clouds, it appears to have been built more for defense than aesthetics.
The great hall is a cavernous expanse of dark stone and shadow. Flickering torches cast eerie shadows across the floor. My gaze travels over the high arched ceilings and the intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles. Crimson banners hang from the walls with the royal family crest, adding to the oppressive grandeur of the space.
The court is filled with Vampires of all ranks, their faces pale and sharp, their eyes glinting with intrigue as we enter the throne room.
Valaric stands at my side, his arm looped through mine. Dozens of eyes are fixed upon me, some with fascination and others disdain.
Hushed whispers rise up from the crowd as we wait to be announced.
“Sanishon,” a voice says.
“The Fallen Knight of the prophecy,” another speaks out.
“Shadow Blade,” someone else whispers nearby.
It seems the priests and priestesses of the old gods have been spreading their belief that we are part of the Lythyrian prophecy throughout their temples. I’m sure Prince Raine has been encouraging this as well. It’s the reason he wanted Valaric’s loyalty, believing it will lend strength to his voice among the High Council when it becomes known that Valaric supports him.
Although I’m uncomfortable being associated with this ancient prophecy, Damar pointed out that it may offer us more protection. There are very few people who would want to risk the wrath of the old gods by trying to harm us.
A Vampire wearing a tunic with the sigil of the Royal House of Blackthorne gestures to us as he loudly announces. “The Great House of Greyvale.”
Valaric walks beside me, my arm looped through his, and Lysander walks to my left. Damar stands on the other side of him, his shoulders set in a tense line as we make our way toward the raised dais at the front of the room.
My gaze is drawn to the three thrones at the center of the dais—each one carved from black stone, etched with glowing purple runes that remind me of the Ancient Gate. Prince Raine lounges upon the one on the left, his sharp features half-veiled by the soft glow of the torchlight.
The largest throne in the middle, where the king would sit, is oddly empty as is the one to the right of it. Damar had told us to expect the Queen’s throne would be vacant, as she rarely attends any official functions, but King Corvin was supposed to be here.
Dread trickles down my spine as I wonder if the king not attending today is some form of a statement—an ominous warning of some sort.
Concern flows across the bond, but Valaric quickly cuts it off, obviously not wanting to worry me.
The heavy doors behind the thrones swing open with a low groan that reverberates through the hall, followed by the echoing footsteps of two guards stepping forward, their dark armor glinting beneath the torchlight as they move.
They part to reveal a Vampire that can only be King Corvin. His posture is rigid, his expression carved from stone. Everyone falls completely silent as his sharp red eyes scan the hall, his mere presence commanding both fear and respect from the crowd without uttering a single word.
His hair, the same color as Raine’s, begins as a deep, fiery red at the roots but fades into silvery-white strands at the ends, cascading down to his shoulders. A large golden crown rests upon his brow, its intricate design drawing the eye to the centerpiece—a massive ruby the color of fresh blood.
The announcer gestures to us and then bows low to the king. “The Great House of Greyvale.”
The King’s gaze sweeps over the hall once more before settling upon me, his crimson eyes burning with an intensity that borders on hatred. They seem to pierce straight through me as he takes his throne.
My heart hammers as I fight against the instinct to lower my gaze and shrink under the oppressive weight of his disdain. Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin and meet his gaze evenly. I refuse to show him any fear.
Prince Raine’s lips twitch in amusement at my defiance, a glint of something almost like approval in his gaze.
As the High Lord of our House, Damar steps forward. “House Greyvale has added two new members to our Clan.” He gestures to Lysander. “I present Lysander Winter, who shall henceforth be known as Lord Lysander Greyvale.”
It was agreed that Lysander would be presented first. Damar argued that since he is a Vampire, there would be little to no resistance from the royal court to accept his new title and status.
The king’s face remains expressionless, regal in its coldness, but there’s something there, just beneath the surface—a flicker of interest, almost like a recognition. “Lysander Winter,” he murmurs as he leans forward, studying every feature as if searching for something.
Lysander stands tall, unflinching under the scrutiny, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. Color darkens his face as the king repeats the name marking him as the illegitimate son of a Vampire.
Awkward silence fills the air. Why on earth is the king looking at him like that?
Sudden realization slams into me as my gaze travels over King Corvin, Prince Raine, and Lysander, noting the similarities in their features. They are subtle, but easily recognizable if one looks closely enough. They have the same high cheekbones, sharp brows, the proud, aristocratic nose, and strong jawline.
Reyla said she was the blood wife of a powerful Vampire. Prince Raine is only a few years older than Lysander, so he cannot have sired him. But I wonder if the king might be the one she refuses to name.
“Step forward, Lord Lysander of House Greyvale,” King Corvin’s voice cuts through the quiet. “I will give you your blood rune.”
Damar stands beside him as Lysander removes his tunic and approaches the king.
King Corvin lifts his hand. Tendrils of magic swirl around his fingers like purple smoke. With a flick of his wrist, he sends it arcing toward Lysander. It coils around his upper arm as a lavender rune appears on his shoulder.
Lysander grits his fangs as it pulses, searing his skin. The faint scent of iron fills the room as the blood magic settles into his flesh, fading into a softly lit glow.
“As a Lord of House Greyvale, you will bear this rune with honor.” King Corvin’s voice reverberates through the hall as he meets Lysander’s gaze evenly. “You are Noctva—a warrior of night.”
The Noctva. The word sends a chill down my spine. They are warriors bound to the shadows, protectors of night, feared, and revered. I’ve heard the stories and legends of their loyalty and their absolute ruthlessness toward their enemies. Every Vampire that belongs to one of the Great Houses or fights beneath their banners receives this title.
King Corvin turns his gaze to the crowd. “We are Noctva.” He thumps his closed fist to his chest as everyone else does the same, each of them echoing his words. “We bow to no one.”
Everyone falls silent as Lysander moves to my side. My heart pounds as all eyes fall upon me again. In the corner of the room, Aerlyx’s lavender eyes blink in the shadows, offering me a small measure of comfort to calm my nerves. If anything goes wrong, we at least have a plan of escape.
Damar stands tall as he turns to me and Valaric. “House Greyvale has added another member to our growing Clan.”
With my arm looped through his, Valaric and I step forward. “King Corvin,” my husband begins. “I present my true wife, Lady Juliet Greyvale.”
Dozens of eyes stare at us, their expressions varying from looks of disdain to intense fascination as hushed murmurs move through the crowd: Sanishon. Fated One. Fallen Knight .
A muscle tics along the King’s jaw, his cold eyes narrowing. “I have heard much of you and your human mate, Lord Greyvale.”
A frisson of fear travels down my spine as the king emphasizes the word ‘human’ as if disgusted by the very thought. Despite my worry, I keep my shoulders back and my head held high. Strength is everything to their kind, and I will not show King Corvin any fear.
Movement catches the corner of my eye. It’s one of the Vampire guards. The crowd parts as he walks toward the dais. Something about him unnerves me, and I cannot look away.
Sensing my unease through the bond, Valaric follows my line of sight.
The guard’s entire form seems to shimmer beneath the torchlight. Cold dread fills me as I recognize this illusory magic. He’s using a shade stone.
“Guards!” Prince Raine’s voice echoes through the chamber as he points at the man. “He’s an imposter! Seize him!”
The guard’s body shimmers again before falling away, revealing his true figure beneath the disguise.
It’s one of the Mages.
His skin is a pale gray and his eyes are endless pools of black. Pointed ears peek up through long white hair that cascades down his back. He is dressed in a dark gray robe. Dagger-sharp, black claws extend from his hands. His gnarled hand curls around a wooden staff, etched with ancient symbols that seem to pulse with dark energy.
“What is the meaning of this?” The Vampire king’s eyes blaze with anger. “How dare you come to my court unannounced.”
A hushed silence falls over the crowd and panic surges through our bond as the mage’s staff begins to glow even brighter.
He flashes two rows of sharp teeth in a threatening grin and then bends forward in a mockery of a bow. “Forgive my lack of manners, but I’ve come to deliver a message from my brethren.”
“Seize him!” the king orders.
The guards rush forward, only to slam into an invisible barrier surrounding the mage.
“Did you really think it would be that easy?” He sneers as a flash of bright light travels over his staff. “You underestimated our power, King Corvin. And now, you and your entire court will pay the price with your lives.”
A bloodcurdling scream fills the air as he lifts his staff overhead. Fear spikes through me and time seems to slow as he drives it into the stone floor with a thunderous boom. A blast of raw energy explodes from the staff. The shockwave rushes from the epicenter, rippling through the crowd. Instantly immobilized, they begin to drop like stones.
Valaric grips my upper arm and jerks me back from the fast-approaching wave. Wrapping his arms and wings around my form, he spins me away, shielding me from the paralyzing energy.
Together, we collapse to the ground. My head is spinning from the sudden drop, but I force myself to focus. Prince Raine’s wide eyes meet mine from across the way, and I realize that all the Vampires are conscious, but unable to move.
Carefully shifting my body, I turn in Valaric’s arms to face him. Panic filled eyes meet mine as he whispers through the bond. “Don’t move.”
Barely lifting my head, I look over his shoulder, scanning the room for the mage. His back is turned to us. Ice floods my veins when I see the wooden stake in his left hand. With the Vampires all paralyzed by his dark magic, he could easily kill anyone he wants.
“All this could have been avoided.” He glances around the room. “The Order wanted to work with you. To forge an alliance to conquer the seven realms. But you refused.” He kneels beside one of the Vampires, dragging the sharp tip of the wooden stake across his chest. “So nice of all of you to gather in one place this evening. It makes my job that much easier.”
He presses the tip of the stake directly over the Vampire’s heart threateningly. “I wish you could talk so I could hear you beg for your lives.” He pulls the stake away and then turns to the king. “I’d especially love to hear your king plead for me to spare his. But make no mistake. None of you will leave here alive.”
Panic spirals through me. He’ll kill them all this night.
Pressed close to him, I can feel Valaric’s heart pounding in the cage of his chest against mine. His wings twitch slightly as he struggles to move, fear surging across our bond.
Worried eyes stare deep into mine as I brush trembling fingers over his cheek. I won’t let him be killed. “I’ve got to do something,” I whisper through the bond.
“No!” The word arcs through me like lightning.
I glance over his shoulder to see the mage walking toward the King and Prince Raine. He means to kill them first and then start on the others.
Cautiously, I pull the enchanted blade from the hidden pocket of my dress. If I time it right, I can rush the mage and attack him. Worry trickles down my spine. But if I fail, I’m dead.
Staring deep in Valaric’s eyes, I speak through the bond. “ I can do this. I know I can .”
His heart pounds against mine as if echoing my fear. Desperately, he struggles to tighten his weakened grip around my form. “No! Do not do this!” His eyes dart to the column beside us. “You can slip away. He won’t notice you if you are quiet. Leave, Juliet. Save yourself. I beg of you. Please. Eben is outside somewhere. Find him and run.”
“I won’t leave you to die.”
Swallowing down my panic, I carefully toe off my shoes as I track the mage, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Valaric’s grip tightens weakly around me, his muscles straining as he fights against the spell that holds him down. In my mind, his voice is a broken whisper. “Please, Juliet. Don’t do this. You must hide. Save yourself.”
Tears sting my eyes, my heart breaking at his plea. I lower my forehead to his, our breath mingling as I close my eyes . “I love you more than life,” I speak in his mind. “But I have to do this. I won’t let you die.”
Fear coils tight in my chest as the mage stalks toward Prince Raine. I can’t wait any longer.
My muscles tense in nervous anticipation and my heart pounds so loud I hear nothing over the deafening rush of blood in my ears. Taking a deep and steadying breath, I roll away from Valaric and jump to my feet.
Valaric’s hand barely brushes my leg as he tries to hold me back, and a devastated roar echoes in my head . “No!”
Energy surges through my veins as I charge toward the mage with my blade in hand. He spins at the last second, avoiding my knife as I slam into him, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling, the stake and his staff both flying from his hands.
As we fall to the ground, I lose the grip on my knife, sending it sliding across the stone floor.
I scramble to retrieve my blade, but he wraps his hand around my ankle, jerking me back. The air escapes my lungs in a forceful rush as I crash back to the ground. Gasping for breath, I kick blindly behind me until I hit something solid. He howls in pain and releases his hold.
Lunging forward again, I manage to grab my knife. The hulking mass of his body is over me in seconds, and pain rips up my spine as I twist onto my back. Using all of my strength, I jab the blade into his chest.
Sharp pain tears through my left side as his claws pierce my flesh, and I open my mouth in a silent scream. Blood drips from his mouth, his obsidian eyes burning with rage as he bares his fangs, speaking the words of a spell as he struggles to breathe.
Dark energy rushes through my body. A vile and suffocating force that claws its way into my chest through my veins. Panic twists deep within. “What are you doing to me?”
Agony spreads through me like wildfire, searing my insides.
His gaze is locked on mine, full of wrath as he draws in a rattling breath. “The Blood Reaver’s Curse.”
Fear grips me in an iron vise. I’ve heard of this dark enchantment. A final act of vengeance that will end in my death.
A long exhale leaves his lips as his head falls back and the light fades from his eyes. His holding spell shatters, freeing the Vampires all around me.
Pain burns along every nerve ending as I press my hand against my wound. Groaning in agony, I roll onto my side. Liquid warmth pools beneath my palms, blooming across my torso. The sickening scent of iron fills the air so thick, I taste it on my tongue.
Valaric rushes toward me and drops to his knees. His eyes are wide as they travel over my form. He bites the inside of his wrist and holds it over my mouth. “Drink this.”
A few drops of blood pass my lips and I close my eyes, praying for the worst of the pain to subside, but it only grows stronger.
“Why isn’t it working?” He snarls. His warm hands settle gently over mine as his panicked voice hovers above me. “Let me see, Juliet.”
I’m vaguely aware of Damar, Lysander, and Prince Raine standing behind him. A deep growl rumbles as a large wolf—Eben—stands guard on my other side, next to Aerlyx.
A sharp hiss of pain escapes me and my hands tremble uncontrollably as he pulls them away from the wound.